Chapter 9 That evening , I was emotionally recovering from the day's humiliation . 71 65 vouchers The kitchen was dry , my pride was mostly patched up with snacks , and Steven had stopped making quips about ducks and red lace ( barely ) . I was finally cozy in my room , scrolling on my cracked old phone , wearing the only pair of fluffy socks I owned , when- Ding dong . The penthouse doorbell rang with the kind of elegance that said : " We don't do poor here . " Steven called out from the living room , " Did you order another faucet ? " " Bite me . " I opened the door , and then - I almost died . Not from attackers . Not from ghosts . But from the sheer luxury being wheeled inside . Three impeccably dressed delivery staff entered like angels from a Saks Fifth Avenue fever dream , each pushing gold - accented racks full of clothes . Not just any clothes . Designer . Magazine spread . Red carpet . Runway model crying from joy levels of clothes . There were hangers draped with Chanel tweed jackets , Gucci sneakers , Dior silk blouses , and Balenciaga hoodies that looked like streetwear sent from heaven . There were jeans that felt like they could solve world hunger . Heels sharp enough to pierce egos . Bags so luxurious I actually bowed at one . I blinked . One of the stylists smiled at me . " Miss Madison Luis , yes ? This is for you . From Mrs. Elise McLeon . Congratulations ." I stood there . Frozen . Wearing $ 5 pajamas with a dancing avocado print . " Sorry ... what ? " They opened one of the large boxes . Inside ? A pair of limited edition Hermès running shoes . With gold trim . Gold . On running shoes , I squeaked . " I - I think you have the wrong girl . I'm Madison . PT Madison . Half - Asian . One spoon away from ramen debt ." The woman just smiled again , professionally unfazed . " Mrs. McLeon says it's a thank - you gift . She texted you 11:26 Thu , Sep 18 Chapter 9 already ." I scrambled for my phone . And sure enough : Elise McLeon : : 71 55 vouchers Darling , consider this part of your bonus . You cooked breakfast for my son . A real one . That deserves couture . You deserve to look as good as you sass . I stared at the text like it was a riddle from God . Me ? Clothes ? Real ones ? I looked down at the Versace leather mini purse nestled inside a box like royalty . Steven wheeled in slowly , sipping water with one brow raised . " What the hell is this ? " I gestured vaguely at the fashion explosion . " Uh . Apparently , this is the reward for feeding your royal moody ass with garlic rice . " He choked on his drink . " She sent you a wardrobe ? For breakfast ?! " " Yeah . Which makes me terrified what I'll get if I ever make lunch ." Steven's eyes skimmed over the racks , his gaze lingering when the stylist held up a figure - hugging white dress that I swear blushed just by being in the same room as him . His voice dropped . " That's Dior ." " Yeah , " I whispered . " And that hoodie over there costs more than my soul ." " Did she send a runway too ? Should I call Vogue ? " " I can't wear these . I'll sweat guilt ! " " Please wear them . It would balance out the faucet fiasco . " I turned slowly , dramatically . " Steven McLeon , you just don't want to admit that your kitchen has fallen in love with me ." He snorted . " My kitchen is traumatized ." " And yet I got a wardrobe out of it . " He stared at me . " You're going to wear all of this ? " 11:26 Thu , Sep 18 Chapter 9 71 55 vouchers I picked up a sparkling new pair of running shoes . " Try and stop me . Tomorrow morning PT session ? We do it in Gucci joggers ." Steven looked like he wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry . And me ? I just hugged my new Chanel purse and whispered sweet nothings to it . Because guess what ? This duckling just got couture . ( Steven's POV ) She was true to her word , of course . Because Madison Luis didn't bluff - she delivered . Loudly . In full color . With sass . So , when she strutted into the living room at precisely 8:06 a.m. in Gucci joggers , a matching sports bra , and her usual don't - mess - with - me energy , I knew I was screwed . Not because of the clothes . Because of how she looked in them . Those stupid designer joggers hugged her waist like they were built for her curves . The top showed a sliver of toned stomach . Her ponytail bounced like a shampoo commercial and her cheeks were flushed from just being alive . And the worst part ? She smiled like she already knew she was about to ruin my morning . " Good news , " she chirped . " Today we're going full - body strength . No whining allowed . Also , your joints are going to thank me - or sue me . We'll see ." I narrowed my eyes . " That sounds illegal ." " You'll live . " And then she clapped her hands . " Up . Now , Come on , race car prince , I didn't put on a $ 2,000 workout outfit just to watch you sit there like a statue . " God help me - I did as she said . Not because I was afraid . Because I was weak . Weak to the way she looked crouched next to me adjusting the bands . Weak to the flash of skin when she reached across my lap to grab a resistance tool . Weak to her voice , her scent - something warm , like vanilla , soap , and woman . And yeah , I'll admit it : My joints were feeling better . Not a miracle . But less stiff . Less painful . Easier . Which was annoying . Because now I owed her ... what ? My gratitude ? 11:26 Thu , Sep 18 Chapter 9 071 55 vouchers Ugh . At some point , she handed me weights and demonstrated the stretch herself . Her body moved like it knew music even in silence - fluid , confident , unintentionally sexy . And right there , mid rep , it hit me again . That stupid thought . That damn wet shirt . The red lace . The soft curves . The drip of water down her collarbone . Shit . Why was I suddenly thinking about her back ? Her smooth neck ? The backless evening gown I saw hung on the rack last night ? Did she know I saw it ? That deep green silk that shimmered like sin ? Did she know that the thought of her in that gown had been sitting in my brain all night like an unholy tab ? I wasn't even a dress guy . I was a fast cars , cold whiskey , loud engines guy . And yet here I was , imagining Madison dripping in emerald satin , her hair swept to the side , bare shoulders out like an invitation to damnation . God . I was so- " Steven ! " Her voice snapped me out of it . " What ? " " You were zoning out again . " She squinted . " You're sweating ." " I'm exercising ." " You're lifting a one - pound band . " I looked at her . She raised a brow . " Are you okay ? " No. No , I was not . Because all I could think about was her back . Her mouth . Her skin . Her wet shirt . Her lips wrapped around a mango slice yesterday morning . " I'm fine , " I said through gritted teeth . " Too much coffee ." " Mm - hmm ." She didn't buy it . She leaned closer , brushing imaginary lint off my shoulder , and whispered , " Try not to die before lunch . I'm 11:26 Thu , Sep 18 Chapter 9 making adobo . " I groaned . : Not from pain . From knowing I was completely , utterly , cosmically- Doomed . I 71 55 vouchers